


To Make Us Right

by ShortAngryTwinks



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, Stanley Cup, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortAngryTwinks/pseuds/ShortAngryTwinks
Summary: AU where the Stanley Cup finals come down to the Aces and the Falconers, and Kent watches in person as Jack makes history with Bitty.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Kent "Parse" Parson, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 20
Kudos: 157
Collections: Polya Epifest 2019





	To Make Us Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatsclassicsbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsclassicsbaby/gifts).



His alarm goes off at seven thirty in the morning. He sighs, rolls over, turns it off, then lays on his back for a bit. Today is the last game of the Stanley Cup. They’re tied 3-3 with the Falconers right now. Six games. Six times playing Jack and his team.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. He needs to get his shit together. 

The ceiling does not provide an answer to his dilemma, so he rolls out of bed to put some clothes on and go downstairs.

“Hey there sleeping beauty.” Swoops chirps, chipper as ever even with the early wake up.

“Christ.” Kent says. “Do you just wake up feeling well rested or something?”

“Yes.” Swoops responds flatly. “Because I go to bed at a decent hour. You should try it sometime.”

“Then I wouldn’t get to make fun of you for having the same sleeping habits as my granny.”

“Touché. Mini sausages?”

“Fuck yeah.”  
\-----

Morning skate is uneventful, they shoot the shit and spray up ice at each other, more of a bonding exercise than a warmup until their coach tells them to do some drills. 

Meetings afterwards are more boring still. Their coach pulls up some old tapes of Jack from when he skated with Samwell, and it hurts, the reminder that Jack spent so long just… not in his life at all. Not wanting to be in his life. 

But there’s not a lot of footage of him in the NHL for obvious reasons, and honestly, this is preferable to videos from when they were together, that’d bring a whole other slew of emotions.

The lights in the room visibly raise, and Kent starts, jolted out of his thoughts.

Swoops claps a hand on his shoulder. Most of the other players have already filed out of the room by now, but some stragglers are following behind.

“You ok Parser?” He asks.

“Yeah.” Kent responds, “I’m fine.” 

“Cool,” he says, gesturing for Kent to get up out of his chair “then it’s time for lunch.”

“Where are we going?” 

“Glorified Ham and Eggs.”

“What?” Kent laughs.

“That’s what the diner’s called.”

“Weird name.”

Swoops shrugs. “The food’s supposed to be good though.”

“Fair enough.”

By the time they get to the diner, two of three seats left are by Carl, which is not ideal, the guy is kind of a douchebag. Swoops seems to tolerate him though, and fills the seat immediately next to him.

We’re going to beat them, no problem.” He’s saying, “They’re fresh meat, their lineup can’t beat ours.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Coltzy responds. “They’ve won three of six games so far.”

“Right.” Carl responds. “So there’s no fucking way we could lose to them again.”

“Your logic is flawless, as usual.” Sauce sighs.

“Look man, I’m just saying, it’s a fluke that they ever won in the first place.”

Kent slides into the furthest seat from Carl, opening the menu he grabbed from the waitress and doing his best to ignore his dumbass. 

Swoops changes the subject, so Carl is sounding slightly less obnoxious than usual, but Kent still tunes him out. He allows himself to zone out for a minute and fantasize about the cinnamon roll he would be getting if he wasn’t on his current meal plan. Which is probably why he starts at the feeling of a hand clapping him on the shoulder.

“Jesus, Juice, you scared the shit out of me.” He exhales, clutching his chest.

“You stole my seat.” Juice responds, not actually seeming all too upset about it.

“That’s what you get for being such a sap.” Coltzy heckles from across the table. 

Juice crosses his arms, faux incensed at the jibe. “The wife just popped one out, I’m allowed to check on her.”

Coltzy makes a face.

“Man, you know I hate it when you phrase it like that.” 

“That’s what you get for chirping me.” Juice replies, moving into the open seat that Kent had passed by.

The flow of conversation continues all around him, but Kent can’t seem to tune in. He has anxiety buzzing under his skin, his mind an endless loop of Jack and the game and the cup. Jack used to be his life, and now it’s just the game, and he wants so badly to win the cup; to be the captain that does that for his team again.

All of the things he cares-- or cared most about are coming together. It’s just a little bit terrifying.  
\--------

When it comes down to it, and they’re on the ice, facing down the Falconers, he takes a deep breath and steels himself, focusing in on the puck. 

Right off the bat he’s in possession and he’s sailing forward, whipping his way through the Falconers, doing his best to clear a path towards the goal. One of the bigger defencemen approaches, and he hastily makes a pass to Swoops, using his peripheral vision so he doesn’t turn his head too overtly and alert the Falconers.

Swoops gracefully receives the puck, and Kent inwardly fistpumps while outwardly making his way forward as best he can to keep himself open to passes. 

One of the defensemen checks Swoops, shooting the puck over to Jack, who was waiting in the perfect position and zooms off towards the Aces goal. 

Kent pursues, irked that Swoops didn’t even get a shot on goal.

The game doesn’t improve much after that.

The Falconers score the first goal, and the second, and the clock steadily begins to tick down with a 2-0 score. 

Kent finally, finally scores a goal with 20 minutes left on the clock, and he punches the air in exhilaration. Only one more.

With ten minutes left on the clock, the Falconer’s make another goal. Their defense is strong, and they focus on that afterwards. 3-1 is the final score. He throws his stick down onto the ice, tears prickling in his eyes as the celebration and mourning both begin. Swoops pats him consolingly on the shoulder, and he sees something approaching fast out of the corner of his eye. The cute guy from the kegster he went to at Samwell is here, he realizes. The eavesdropper. He had said his name was Bitty. He’s beelining towards Jack. Kent can’t tear his gaze away. Their heads come together, intimate. Bitty closes his eyes. Confetti falls, almost obscuring Kent’s view as Jack kisses Bitty, right there on the ice.

His heart sinks. Logically, he knew Jack probably moved on from him. He wouldn’t have turned him down if he hadn’t. But still. 

Somehow, he hadn’t expected this. After losing to him, finding out that he’s in a serious enough relationship to just become the first out NHL player in the most public way possible.

Kent tears his gaze away. Swoops is giving him a concerned look. He doesn’t know about his history with Jack. He probably just thinks he’s broken up over losing the cup.

Then Kent realizes he still has post game media to get through, Fuck. He doesn’t know if he can handle post game media right now.

He stumbles forward, to the locker room, changes mechanically, staring ahead. He can’t stop replaying that scene in his head. In his mind’s eye, Jack is leaning down to kiss Bitty on loop. His hand cups his face, Bitty gets on tip toes, his heart breaks, rinse and repeat.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Swoop’s hand on his shoulder.

“Your shirt’s on backwards.” He says, face soft.

Kent looks down. He’s right. Sighing, and with some difficulty, he manages to get it turned back around.

“I’ll cover you.” Swoops says. “Just promise me you won’t drink yourself into a coma.”

Kent nods. “I promise.”

“Go then.”

It was probably a good call. He’s kind of useless right now. The first thing he does when he gets back to his room is order bottle service.

The bellhop asks what he’s celebrating, and Kent almost chokes.

“The first out NHL player.” He says, a bit dryly.

He finishes the champagne bottle about halfway through the second episode of My Strange Addiction. Then he stumbles out of bed and drinks the mini bar dry. One at a time, first the tequila, he finishes an episode. The credits play, he thinks about Jack again. He knocks back the whiskey, makes it through two more episodes this time. Then he remembers how he had talked to Bitty earlier in the kegster. Remembers his cute smile, big eyes, his “fuck me” mouth.

He knocks back the rum and vodka. He’s out of bottles now. Fuck that kid. Fuck that kid for making Jack feel so much for him he decided to come out of the closet for him. That should have been Kent.

Not that he’s ready to come out just yet either, but he could have been, with the right person. Jack would have been the right person.

He lays back and watches the ceiling spin. He just wishes he could fix this. Just do it all over. Make it right. He’d give anything to make this right.

His cheek tickles, and he presses shaking fingers to the wetness there. 

He’s crying. He feels fucking pathetic. His only comfort as he curls up in bed, still mostly clothed, is the haze of sleep encroaching on his mind.  
\-----  
Kent wakes up the next morning to the sound of his alarm going off. He rolls over and fishes for his phone. Surprisingly enough, drunk Kent had managed to get it plugged in and charging. The next surprise is that it’s seven thirty am. Fuck, he must have forgotten to dismiss the notification right last morning. Sometimes it loops over to the next day if he sleeps through it. Downfalls of being a heavy sleeper and the opposite of a morning person.

He sighs. Luckily, he doesn’t have a headache. But he should probably go into the kitchen and fix himself a glass of water before dehydration changes that.

He overbalances getting out of bed, expecting dizziness and finding none. If the alcohol hasn’t left his system enough for a hangover yet, he should still be a little drunk. But it doesn’t seem like either is the case.

Then he notices he’s not clothed anymore, he’s wearing boxers, like he normally does. He must have changed and forgotten about it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s forgotten something he did drunk.

He gets that glass of water, chugs it, and stares into space for a bit. Assessing his own state of being. Nothing seems off, but it’s probably best not to test that particular notion. 

With that sentiment in mind, he pisses, sets an alarm for one, a few hours before they’re supposed to head to the airport, and heads back to bed to sleep it off. 

He’s awoken not long after to the sound of someone pounding on his door.

Fuck, did he sleep through the alarm? He checks the clock.

No, it’s ten am. What the hell?

Irritably, he rises from bed to answer the door. 

“What?” He snaps, still smarting from yesterday’s loss, and, while not hungover, tired as hell for some reason.

“What?” Swoop’s asks, incredulous. “What, He asks. Our captain doesn’t show up to morning skate, with less than 30 minutes to go before pre game media, he answers the door in his fucking boxers, apparently with a massive stick to his ass under there, and he asks what.” 

“What?” Kent asks, genuinely confused this time. “The fuck are you talking about?”

Swoops seems concerned now. “Did you get a concussion at some point I don’t know about? Fuck, hiding a concussion is exactly the stupid kind of shit you would get up to Parson.”

“I’m not concussed!” Kent says, indignant.

“Then are you drunk?” Swoops asks, less concerned and more exasperated now.

“I don’t think so.” Kent says, genuine and confused because he can tell when he’s drunk, obviously, he knows what it feels like.

“Let me smell your breath.” Swoops demands.

Kent leans in and breathes on him.

“You really aren’t.” Swoops says, amazed. “Jesus Kent, if you’re not drunk and you’re not concussed, then what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“I thought the Stanley Cup Finals were yesterday.” Kent says. “We played against the Falconers, we lost, and I got drunk.”

They both stew there in silence for a moment. Swoops looking concerned again, Kent just remembering, questioning his memory.

“I guess… guess it was just a dream. Shit.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me just throw some clothes on, I’ll meet you down there.”

“You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, have you?” Swoops asks, disapproving.

“No time for that.”

Swoops sighs. “Go.”

He does.   
——-  
Kent enters the greenroom and is hit with a wave of deja vu. Swoops is answering a question, with coach nodding alongside him.

“Well, you know, it sucks not to have a cushion between us and the fourth W, but I’m confident we can pull through and win the cup this year.”

Kent shakes his head, expelling the sensation the best he can. 

The questions derail a bit when Kent arrives and Swoops chirps him for being late. The feeling of familiarity dispels. 

Twenty minutes later, Swoops is leading him out of the green room. 

“We’re meeting the rest of the team at a diner a couple blocks over for lunch.”

“Glorified Ham and Eggs?” Kent asks.

“Yeah.” Swoops responds, getting the door for him. “Weird name right?”

“That’s where we went in my dream too.” Kent says.

“You must have overheard Coltzy making plans yesterday or something, it was his turn to choose.”

“Yeah.” Kent says, lost in his own thoughts

When they get to the diner, only two of the three seats from his dream are open, and Troy once again goes for the one by Carl.

“We’re going to beat them, no problem.” He’s saying, and Kent is struck by another wave of intense familiarity. “They’re fresh meat, their lineup can’t beat ours.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Coltzy responds. “They’ve won three of six games so far.”

“Right” Carl responds “so--”

“Don’t be so arrogant,” Kent snaps, “you’re gonna fucking jinx us.”

There’s an awkward pause as everyone turns to look at Kent. He’s not usually this harsh, but the dream.... Well, he’s not taking any chances.

Coltzy coughs. “So, Juice, your regularly scheduled phone call with your wife was pretty brief. Trouble in paradise?”

Juice rolls his eyes. “No, cell reception is just fuckin weird right now for some reason. All I got was a dial tone and none of my texts are sending. Hopefully it’ll fix itself soon.”

“Yeah.” Swoops says. “Same thing happened to me when I tried to text my dogsitter.”

“AT&T?” Juice asks.

“No, Sprint.” Swoops responds.

“Huh.” Juice says. “Weird.”

Kent watches this all, feeling a strange sense of not-quite deja vu. Many of the things are similar to his dream, and even more are different. But those similarities are so stark it’s jarring. To the point where he’s not sure if the divergences are more comforting for his sanity or confusing to his sensibilities.

He tries his best to think more about the game than the fact that he’s clearly lost all but one of his marbles.  
\-----  
When it finally comes time for the game, things feel just as familiar as they have through the day.

He gets the puck right off the bat, like he had in his dream, and everything goes downhill quickly, just like in is dream. When he realizes the patterns that are occuring, he tries his best to switch things up. Things start to feel less and less familiar the more he does, and that at least is comforting, but what isn’t is the fact that they lose, 3-1 all over again.

Then the cute boy runs out onto the ice again, and he kisses Jack again, and Kent knows there’s no way he could have predicted that in a dream. His heart aches, and his eyes ache with the urge to cry, watching their happiness, so he turns heel and heads into the locker room, avoiding the media as he goes.

He takes his helmet off, shakes his sweat damp hair out, sits on the locker room bench and just… stares off into the distance. Swoops gives him a consoling pat on the shoulder, but he’s less sad and more confused.

He knew what the Falconer’s strategy was, he had seen it last night in his dream. But now he’s wondering if it was even really just a dream. It had to have been.

Swoops is filling in for him, giving the “we’ll get em’ next time” talk on Kent’s behalf. Again. Only this time, Kent can’t chip in for more introspective reasons.

Swoops pats him between the shoulders on their way out of the locker room and gives him a “drink water between every drink and call me if you start puking.”

Any other night he would be right, but tonight Kent just lays in bed for hours, turning things over in his mind until he drifts into a deep sleep.  
\------  
When his alarm goes off at 7:30 the next morning. He stares at it for a solid fifteen seconds before snoozing and rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling instead.

He turned all his alarms off last night. Double checked them too. He mutely rolls out of bed, unplugging his phone and calling Swoops.

The phone rings three times before Swoops picks up. 

“Headin down to the lobby for breccy now, you want me to pick you up something, Sleeping Beauty?” 

It’s a long-standing joke between them, Swoops makes fun of him for not being able to wake up unless it’s either past ten am in Las Vegas, or he has something really fucking important going on in less than an hour, and Kent makes fun of him for having the sleep habits of a senior citizen. But Swoops never makes fun of him after a hard L. He gives him a couple chirp free days to recover. He would know this one is the hardest of all.

“You ok?” Swoops asks, and Kent realizes he’s been silently holding the phone to his ear while he was thinking.

“Yeah.” he responds, sounding dazed even in his own ears.

“Um, Swoops?” He continues a moment later, feeling stupid. “Is today the game?”

This time Swoops is the one who’s silent for a bit. 

“...I’m bringing you a Belgian waffle and a bunch of mini sausages.” He says, and then hangs up.

“That’s a yes then.” Kent says to himself.

When Swoops arrives not five minutes later, he’s balancing four plates laden with breakfast items. In lieu of knocking, he yells “open the damn door.”

“Don’t judge.” He says, at Kent’s incredulous look. “I used to wait tables before this.”

“You were damn good at it too, it seems.” Kent replies, opening the door wider so Swoops can come through and drop off the food.

“So.” Swoops begins, as Kent shuts the door. “I’d ask if you’re hungover, but you’re up too early for that.”

Kent shakes his head. “Not hungover. Maybe psychic. Maybe just had a dream within a dream. Might be currently living out Inception.”

Swoops barks a laugh. “The fuck are you talking about Parser?”

He pops a mini sausage in his mouth through his chuckles.

“I don’t know.” Kent says. “But I’m sure as hell going to find out."  
\-----  
Morning skate, media, lunch, and evening skate all go the same. 

He determinedly avoids interfering too much in the things around him, and they all proceed in frighteningly familiar manners. 

When he gets to the game, though, he tries to focus. To recall what he had seen in his premonition, to use that recall to change the course of the game.

Not that it matters. The Aces lose again. Kent almost breaks his stick over his knee in frustration when the final buzzer sounds. But the real kicker is when that kid comes sailing back onto the ice to kiss Jack again. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, but the punishment seems too harsh to be befitting of any of his crimes. 

He yanks his helmet off his head, runs his hand through his sweaty hair and turns back. Swoops is looking at him, that same concerned face as the first two times, and Kent thinks, fuck it. He’s not going to remember this anyways.

“The worst part isn’t losing the cup.” He says. 

Swoops comes closer to hear him over the sound of the huge celly going on. His gaze flickers towards Jack. Maybe Kent wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Yeah.” He says. “It’s watching my ex make history with someone else.”

Swoops lets out a rush of air. “Shit.” He says. 

“Yeah.” Kent responds. “That about sums it up.”

He shoulders past Swoops, heading to the locker room.

Swoops catches up to him.

“You good for post game?”

Kent thinks about it for a second, then responds with a resolute “absolutely not.”

It’s not like it even matters at this point, since he’s fucking apparently unable to do anything anyone else will remember at this point. His failures are null. 

He heads back to his room, pounds back all of the mini bottles of alcohol in the fridge in quick succession, watches two episodes of She-Rah, and then falls into a dreamless sleep moments after crawling into bed.  
\-----  
He wakes up to an alarm at seven thirty am again and groans, slapping it off. At least he isn’t waking up with hangovers after binge drinking like he reasonably should. He lies in bed for a minute, unsure how to convince himself to get out.

If this is all a dream it can only last so long, but he seriously doubts it is. It’s far too lucid, and he had been feeling pain during the hockey games like its real. Something he shouldn’t be able to do while dreaming.

He’s certainly trapped in some way though, just a loop of the same day over and over…

He yanks the charging cable out of his phone and dials Swoops.

“Morning sleep--”

“Groundhog day!” He exclaims, unabashedly cutting off the familiar phrase.

Swoops pauses for a moment.

“The holiday or the movie?”

“The movie, of course.” Kent replies, fully aware that he isn’t making any sense.

“...It was subpar.” Swoops replies. “The fuck are you on right now Parser? It’s fucking game day, you better not have done any drugs.”

“It’s too early for drugs.” Kent scoffs.

“Try telling that to the meth heads on my old block.” Swoops responds derisively. “Anyways, do you want me to bring your lazy ass some food or are you going to elaborate on the movie thing.”

“Mini sausages.” Kent says. Then belatedly adds “please.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Swoops responds, then hangs up without a goodbye.

“Rude.” Kent huffs.

He tries to remember how Groundhog Day had gone. It’s been years though. But there is a tv in the hotel room, he could do some research if he wants to educate himself on the situation.

He scrounges around for the remote, searching which streaming platform the movie is available on with his other hand. 

As far as he knows, the movie is entirely fictional. But, then again, his situation should be too. There’s really no logical explanation for a real life time loop. Magic doesn’t exist and he barely passed physics in high school, so he’s at a lost for realistic solutions.

He plays the movie.  
\-----  
Swoops arrives with the food about five minutes into the movie.

His arms are laden with plates again, and he takes Kent’s momentary deja vu as skepticism.

“Don’t judge.” He says, shouldering past Kent. “I used to be a waiter.”

“And a damn good one too.” Kent responds, unable to think of a better reply than the one he’s already used.

Swoops catches sight of the tv in the bedroom and laughs.

“Ah, some context for your call. Why the fuck are you watching Groundhog Day at, like, eight in the morning? Wouldn’t you usually be using this time to snooze fifty consecutive alarms and then eat your own weight in whatever’s closest?”

Kent lightly shoves him for that. “I”m trying to do that second one. But you’re in my fucking way.”

“Sorry for blocking your path you fucking diva.”

Kent smiles around a mouthful of sausages.

“Gross.”

He chews and then swallows his sausage boon loudly, relishing Swoop’s grimace.

“My life is Groundhog Day.”

Swoops tilts his head. “You’re a conceited hockey player, not a conceited weather man.”

Kent shrugs, used to Swoops’ insults by now. 

“True, but I am also stuck in a time loop.”

“Uh… huh.” Swoops responds. “Sure about the no drugs thing?”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, both of the fact that I’m not on drugs and the fact that I am entering the same twenty four hour span of time for the fourth consecutive time.”

“Yeah…” Swoops says. “Sure.”

Kent bounces back on to the hotel bed.

“I’m not playing tonight.”

“What?” Swoops asks, more fervent now. “You can’t do that, you’re the captain!” 

“Yeah, and apparently a pretty shitty one seeing as we lost the same game three times in a row.”

“Kent, are you fucking serious right now?”

“One hundo percent.” Kent says, switching the tv on and continuing the movie.

Swoops marches up and snatches the remote out of his hands, ignoring Kent’s “hey!” as he flicks the tv off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you right now?” He says, tone serious. “This isn’t your typical sense of humor.”

Kent flops back onto the bed. “It’s not supposed to be funny. It’s the truth.” He sighs explosively. “Not that i’d believe myself either if I were you. I didn’t believe it when it was happening to me in the first two loops. Thought it was just deja vu or a premonition or something.”

Swoops seems to be looking at him with less incredulity and more concern now. Kent isn’t sure if that’s progress or not.

“What happened the last three times?” Swoops asks, with the general air of someone temporarily humoring the insane. Kent’ll take it.

“Nothing really notable until the end of the day.” He responds. “Both times we lost, and Jack became the first out NHL player on live TV.”

“What, like in post game interviews?” Swoops asks, somewhat more gentle now. If there was ever any doubt he knew, there really isn’t now.

“No,” Kent says, shaking his head. “He kisses his boyfriend during the win celly. It was hard to miss, the crowd went fucking wild. Which is saying something, since it was already wild to begin with.”

Swoops sits down next to him on the bed. 

“Is that why you don’t wanna play?”

Kent swallows back a lump in his throat and doesn’t respond. Swoops doesn’t push it further.

Swoops turns the tv back on and plops down besides Kent. Groundhog’s Day resumes playing. 

Kent turns to look at Swoops.

“That’s it?”

Swoops shrugs. “None of the shit you just said is really that believable, but you seem pretty convinced, so lets see if you get any ideas from this stupid fucking movie.”

Kent smiles at him, about to comment on his words when Swoops interjects.

“Now go get our breakfast and bring it here before it gets cold.”

“Way to ruin the moment.” Kent laughs, but he still goes to get it.

\------

Swoops stares at Kent. Kent stares at the rolling credits.

“Well?” Swoops asks. “Any shiny new revelations?”

“I….” Kent begins. “It didn’t really elaborate on why the time loop came about.”

“The power of love stopped it.” Swoops croons.

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening for me.” Kent snaps.

“Alright.” Swoops says, infuriatingly reasonable. “What about your love of hockey?”

“What?” Kent asks, convinced that Swoops is fucking with him but unsure how.

“You said we lost every loop, right? Maybe we need to win to break the loop.”

“You’re just trying to get me to play tonight.” Kent scoffs.

Swoops shrugs shamelessly. 

“Maybe, but you can’t deny it’s the best idea you have.”

Kent opens his mouth to protest, but Swoops cuts him off.

“The only idea you have.”

Kent shuts his mouth, drawing a blank. Swoops really isn’t wrong. 

“Shit.”  
\-----  
They don’t win this time either.

He tosses his stick down onto the ice when the final buzzer goes off, abandoning it there and ignoring Swoop’s attempt to get his attention as he skates past. 

He sees the boyfriend, Bitty, rush past him and onto the ice. He doesn’t even seem to notice Kent, even as they nearly brush shoulders in his haste to get by.

Kent knows what’s coming next. He turns away. But in his hesitation Swoops is able to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he begins, “It’s--”

He’s cut off as the crowd explodes into commotion around them, and he turns to see the source of the chaos, the eye of the storm. Kent doesn’t turn. He already knows what’s there.

“Oh shit.” Swoops says, eyes wide with shock. Then again. “Oh shit!”

He turns to Kent, eyes wide.

Kent shoulders past him, unable to even process this. He’s taking advantage of his inability to get hangovers again.

“I’m not going to post interviews.” Kent says. “Not like it would matter anyways.”

“I…” Swoops begins, but he seems struck dumb by what’s happening around him. He doesn’t follow after him.

Kent doesn’t look back.  
\------  
When he wakes up at 7:30 the next morning, or more accurately, the morning before, feeling much less like death than he had when he went to bed, he decides to take his quest for victory more seriously.

Logically, knowing about the moves the Falconers make, picking up on the strategies they plan for this game, he should gain an advantage. He can’t just loop indefinitely, even statistically speaking, they’d have to win at least once. Then he’ll be free. 

It’s loop number five. He has no way to keep track, anything he wrote down would be lost by the next loop, but he finds a marker and writes it on his hand anyways. Loop number five, the last loop.  
\------  
His next bender ends with him puking over the side of the bed and then falling asleep immediately after. Not having to clean it up is definitely the silver lining on the absolute hell that this loop is.   
——-  
Loop six, he reminds himself. That’s not even that much. Not even a week. He can do this.

He’s going pretty strong early on in the game, he’s starting to get a better handle on the first quarter of the game. But it doesn’t take long for things to go awry.   
By the end of the game, they’re down a point, and Kent is desperate to even them out. 

So desperate he’s distracted, he makes a shitty pass, the puck goes wide and a Falconer hits his stick against it, aiming from the goal, all the way across. Their fucking goalie is switching out for extra offense.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The puck hurdles into the net. The score ups another point in the Falconers favor.

There’s no time to take it back. The Falconers have won.

Again.

Twenty seconds of futile play later, and the Aces fate is sealed for the sixth time. For the sixth time, Kent starts leave the ice and sees Bitty running up to Jack. For the sixth time, he stands there, motionless, as they make history.  
——-

By loop twelve he’s starting to think maybe he’s the reason they keep losing to the Falconers. With that in mind, he goes through the day as normally as possible, up until ten minutes before the game. He tells Swoops he’s going to pee, and Swoops gives him the most exasperated look as he jogs away in his gear.

He doesn’t come back. He takes his gear off in the empty locker room, puts on a falconer hat, allowing the brim to cover his face, turns his phone off and walks away. No one looks twice at him as he’s leaving, and he makes his way to a local bar. He drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and when the bartender finally cuts him off he checks his phone. It’s so blurry he can’t even read the screen. 

He falls asleep at the bar, and wakes up in the hotel room, unsure if the Aces won or lost.

When he wakes up the next morning, it’s still game day though, so he thinks they probably lost. He sighs, sitting up on his bed, but not making any move to get out. If they lost, maybe it was because of his abrupt departure. He didn’t really think it through that much, but it would probably be distracting to have your captain disappear without any explanation. He could still be the losing factor, but maybe he should actually come up with an excuse for not being there.

He texts Swoops an “I’m not feeling well. Goin 2 hospital. Will keep u updated.” as he’s leaving the hotel. He brings a phone charger and finds an especially well rated cafe in the area to set up shop in. There’s a chair in the corner by an outlet that he just sinks into when he sits down. 

Swoops texts him back, but he ignores it for the moment, planning to update him in a few hours with a supposedly high fever and bill of unhealth. 

It’s boring, sitting there with nothing to do but browse his phone, but he manages to pass the time with a slew of cute cat videos. A few hours pass like this, with nothing of true interest happening.

That is, until someone walks through the door. Someone with a head of honey blond hair that has been playing through his nightmares on loop for the past 13 endless days. Kent pulls the brim of his cap further down, grateful for the lack of distinguishing logo on it, and for his innocuous position in the far corner of the shop.

Close on the heels of his nightmare is it’s accompaniment, the 6’2 ball of anxiety that was attached to his hip all throughout high school and his mind all after it. 

“--then my mamma said that if she ever brought her jam around again with the clear intention of indoctrinating me to her marmalade hooey she would have her escorted off the property, by whom I do not know, but she said it with the conviction of someone who could make it happen. Now, clearly my aunt did not back off, and I’m certainly glad she didn’t because if she had, then, well, I never would have been able to make that lovely preserve. I just know if my mamma ever finds out though, she is gonna have a field day giving me a tongue lashing about it, so don’t you tell her.”

“I know, Bitty.” Comes the bemused and much quieter voice of one Jack Laurent Zimmerman. 

Kent dies a little bit inside just hearing it. He hasn’t heard that bit of begrudging fondness in Jacks voice in… well, since before the draft. 

He tries not to be all too obvious about watching them as they make their orders and sit at a table in the corner. Bitty is speaking more softly now, and he can only make out floating bits of their conversation, but he feels a pang of nostalgia at the fond look on Jack’s face. He had thought that look was his, but apparently it’s just the face Jack makes when he’s in love.

Kent turns his gaze back down into his coffee mug, pensive and upset. He doesn’t want to be seeing this, doesn’t want a look into their perfect little life. He puts his headphones in and blocks them out until they leave the shop.

A few hours later, he texts Swoops some bullshit about a bad infection, and how the doctors are about to put him on meds that’ll make him loopy. Swoops accepts it because usually there would be no way in hell that Kent would miss any game, let alone a Stanley Cup game, unless it was really important.

Kent spends another two hours sitting in the cafe before Swoops texts him.

The Aces lost. Kent isn’t sure whether to be relieved or insurmountably frustrated.   
\-----  
It takes 26 loops before the Aces win a game. Even then it’s by the skin of their teeth. They make a goal at the last second that pushes their tie up in their favor, and Kent wants to cry in relief.

He won’t have to watch Jack kiss his boyfriend again. He won’t have to loop through the same terrible twenty four hours again. He watches Jack’s dejected form slouch off the ice and into the arms of his boyfriend, who hugs him tightly, but doesn’t kiss him, and his relief almost dissipates. He won’t have to go through the twenty four hours again, but somehow this ending--watching their hunched forms huddle together, watching Bitty stroke Jack's back--feels worse.  
\-----  
He wakes up to his alarm at 7:30am the next morning, and he almost isn’t surprised  
\-----  
On loop number 35, he sees the kiss again, and it shouldn't be any different, but he's snapping. He can’t fucking breathe anymore. He thought he would be numb to it by now, but it hits like a sucker punch every time. He's just standing there, holding his breath, listening to the roar in his ears and the muffled sound of Swoop's trying to comfort him.

He won't see that again. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it--he can never look away when they kiss--but he’s going to go a loop without having to see that.

He’ll be sure of it.  
——-  
It takes a few loops worth of finagling and more than one instance in which he says something weird enough that he has to nix the plan as a whole for a loop, but he manages to find a way to get Bitty’s number and convince him that he’s not only completely not lying about being Kent Parson, but also to meet him after the game.

The Aces lose to the Falconers, as usual, and when Bitty comes out to greet Jack, his eyes meet Kent's as he’s walking by. 

Kent nods at him in passing, a reminder and acknowledgement, and when Bitty congratulates Jack, they don’t kiss this time, Bitty seems too distracted by it all.

Kent's goal is accomplished. He doesn’t really need to meet Bitty anymore, but somehow, he’s curious about the guy, wants to know what he's like, what makes him so much better than Kent. 

He actually does post game interviews this loop, feeling much more up to it, and he texts Bitty when he’s up in his room.

There’s a knock on the door fifteen minutes later. It’s Bitty, looking impatient, curious, and cute as a fucking button. He raises an eyebrow at Kent.

“Well?” He says. “I’m here. What’s so important?”

Kent draws a blank for a moment. He had been so focused on getting this far that he hadn’t even planned for when he got there.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Kent says, and it’s the truth. But then again, it’s not like Bitty will remember thinking he’s crazy in the morning. Kent steps aside to let Bitty in, and he cautiously crosses the threshold. 

“Oh you’d be surprised.” Bitty responds. And something about the tone, or the fact that Kent is an actual child, makes Kent want to one up him.

“Okay.” He says, then, without further preamble: “I’m stuck in a time loop. Essentially I’m the less shitty, more modern sequel to groundhog day.”

The other eyebrow comes up to meet the first one Bitty had raised.

“How did you manage that?” Bitty asks. 

“Hell if I know.” Kent replies, frustration dripping in his voice. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, I already fixed the part of the loop I needed to fix.” 

“Okay,” Bitty says, “let’s suppose I believe you. What loop are you on?”

“Thirty something.” Kent replies with a wave. “I think eight or nine.”

Bitty nods. “Okay, and why contact me?”

“I was honestly just trying to distract you from doing something you kept doing.”

“Okay,” Bitty says. “Alright. And you sensed I was magic as well right?”

“You're what?” Kent asks.

“Oh.” Bitty says. “I guess that’s a no.”

“Wait.” Kent says. “I’m magic?”

“Yes,” BItty says, sounding honestly puzzled, “how else do you think you ended up in a time loop?”

“I dont know!” Kent exclaims. “A curse?”

“No,” Bitty responds firmly, “You did this, I can tell. Inexperienced, but strong, and with a lot of energy reserves built up from concealing your powers. If you’re telling the truth about the loop, which I suspect you are, it’s your own doing.”

“I should call my mother.” Bitty continues, patting around for his phone. “Have you called anyone in Las Vegas?”

“No.” Kent says, “who would I need to call? Everyone I talk to is here.”

Bitty pales, pulling his phone out of his pocket, dialing, holding it up to his ear. He holds it there for a long, drawn out moment.

“It’s not working.” Bitty’s hands are shaking now as he sets the phone down.

“Oh lord.” Bitty says. “I’m not going to remember this in two hours. Kent, you need to tell me this first thing in the morning when the loop restarts.”

“What's wrong?” Kent says. “Who did you call?”

“My mama.” Bitty says. “In Georgia. You..” He sighs, trailing off. “I don't know how you did it, but you made a continuous loop in time, in a confined area, Lord only knows how big the area is.”

Kent pales a little himself at that. 

“So if we break the loop will we end up dropped off with the rest of the world, what, two months later?”

“No.” Bitty says, contemplative. “I don't think so. The loop is confined, one day. If I had to make a guess I'd say it's more similar to pressing down on the fabric of time, a small disturbance that…” He trails off, seeing the confusion on Kents face.

“Sorry.” Kent shrugs. “I’m a visual learner.”

“C’mon.” Bitty says, motioning him into the kitchen. He washes his hands and then waves them through the air, searching for something. He hums in satisfaction after a moment, and when he opens his hands there's dough inside.

Kent starts. He knew magic was real, but it’s one thing to be trapped in a time loop, half convinced you’re going crazy, alone, and another altogether to see someone pull something out of thin air.

“What…” He begins, unable to finish the thought.

“I made myself a little pocket dimension.” Bitty says. “Nothing too fancy, I just use it to store food mostly, and some essentials for spellcasting. My phone when I’m too drunk to keep track of it, that kind of thing.” 

He slaps the dough down onto the table, gesturing expansively as he speaks, casual. Kent supposes it would be casual for him. This is just a part of his life. But to Kent it’s… well, its magic.

“Alright.” Bitty says, rolling his sleeves up. “Imagine this dough is time.”

He pokes a finger into the dough, leaving an indent there. 

“I think this is what you did. You created a pocket in time. Now we’re just kind of cycling around through that pocket in a loop. When you fix the pocket--” the dough is already slowly rising to fill the indent, and he smooths it out“--time should just continue on as normal.”

“But why is it only happening in a certain place?” Kent asks.

“Didn't you ever take a physics class?” Bitty asks. “Space and time are linked. You affected a small amount of time, and an equivalent amount of space. Hell, I don't even know how you managed to affect as much as you did. Changing all of space time would be impossible, even all of it contained to this world would take a million powerful wizards, and probably kill them all in the process.”

He huffs before continuing. “That's why I'm so chuffed that I can't call my mamma, she would know more than I do about how to fix this.”

“Oh.” Kent says. “It’s okay, it’s kind of a miracle you know this much at all. I’ve honestly kind of resigned myself to being in this time loop. Whatever happens happens.” 

“Alright.” Bitty says, chagrined, pushing him into the little living room area. “No. Absolutely not. You're not the only one trapped in this loop. So you need to buck the hell up and look for a solution.”

“I--” Kent says, following along until Bitty sets him down on the couch--”Bitty I didn’t even know how the fuck I got myself into this situation, how the fuck do you expect me to be able to get out of it?”

“I don't know.” He huffs. “But do it.”

“Real helpful.” Kent sighs.

“Look,” Bitty says, choosing to hover menacingly rather than sit down next to him, “what were you doing before the time loop started?”

Getting drunk and watching My Strange Addiction.

“I don't have to tell you that.” He huffs.

“Something embarrassing then.”

“...Maybe.”

“Kent, I am not fucking around.” Bitty says. “We need to get to the bottom of this, the space time continuum is not something you just--” He gestures wildly and anxiously--“just trifle with on a whim.”

“Hey!” Kent exclaims. “It’s not like I did this on purpose, I didn’t even know magic was real until just now.”

“I know.” Bitty says. “God, I know, I’m just scared.”

His statement hangs in the air for a moment, tension buzzing between them as the sentiment sits out in the open.

“I am too.” Kent admits, on an exhale, and with all the courage he can muster.

Bitty smiles at him, and it’s small, but genuine. 

“I know.” He says. “So can you help me, please, and tell me what you were doing the night before the loop started?”

Kent pauses again, and Bitty starts to look like he’s about to lose his temper. “I was watching My Strange Addiction and drinking the entire mini fridge dry. Plus champagne.” Kent blurts.

Bitty blinks at the sudden outburst.

Kent blinks back.

“Are you?...” Bitty begins, seemingly unsure how to handle the new information. “Are you messing with me?”

“No.” Kent sighs. “You can see why I was embarrassed to tell you now, I’m sure.”

“What happened?” Bitty asks. “Did you lose?” 

“Yeah.” Kent says, it’s the truth, obviously, but all that he sees is the kiss playing on loop in his mind.

“You’ve lost plenty of games.” Bitty says. “What makes this one so different?”

Kent just stares back at him, unsure what his face looks like, sure it isn’t happy.

“Oh.” Bitty says, realization dawning. “It was losing to Jack, wasn’t it?”

Kent turns his face away, and Bitty must take that as assent, because he doesn’t press further.

“You might have done this through sheer drunken force of will.” He muses. “Did you wish for a chance to win or something of the like?”

Kent shakes his head. “I tried that route. We’ve won a few times and nothing’s changed.”

Bitty’s brow furrows. “Is there something else? Something you’re not telling me?”

Kent racks his brain, trying to remember the events of the night, blurred by time and alcohol. “I don’t know,” He begins, “the whole night gets kind of fuzzy after the sixth shot or so.”

Bitty squints at him, clearly turning something over in his mind. 

“Y’know, I know you’re telling the truth, but I can tell you’re not telling me something.”

Kent avoids Bitty’s gaze. He doesn’t really want to get into this. Not now, not knowing how kind Bitty can be. He doesn’t want to deal with that.

Then again, Bitty won’t remember tomorrow. He’s struggled with the balance between the freeing nature of being able to fuck up as much as he wants and the frustration of never having anything he gets right stick. But right now, he thinks that maybe telling Bitty could be cathartic. No matter how Bitty reacts, it won’t stick, he won’t remember.

Kent shrugs, trying for nonchalant to ease the tension.

“You kissed Jack.” He says, voice fake and even. “On live television. That's why I got drunk.”

“Oh.” Bitty says. 

There’s a long silence. Neither can put anything to words.

“You’re not…?” Bitty begins, the inflection of a question with none of the follow-through.

“Over him?” Kent finishes helpfully. “No. I’m not.”

“Ah.” Bitty says. “I see.”

Kent sighs explosively.

“It’s not like I don’t want to be. It’s just that he was the first person I ever fell in love with. Plus I was stupidly in love with him and I never got closure. He did, I think, since he’s the one that fucking closed it, but I…” Kent trails off. 

“Oh.” Bitty says, softer now.

They both stare off into the distance, pensive.

“If it helps,” Bitty starts hesitantly, “I don’t think it was ever personal. You were just part of a chapter of his life that was painful for him to think about. I just think you reminded him too much of the draft and all the ways he felt like he messed that up.”

It honestly does make him feel a little bit better but…

“I don’t think it means much if it’s not coming from him.” Kent admits.

“Then talk to him.” Bitty scoffs. “You apparently have all the time in the world, and unlimited chances to get it right.”

“What do you mean ‘get it right’”? Kent asks, suspicious of how supportive his ex-boyfriend’s current boyfriend is being.

Bitty shrugs. “If things start to get heated, you can just run away and try again with a clean slate.”

Kent almost thinks about it, the possibility of confronting Jack, of getting it right, of making things right between them--of it being erased the very next day. He doesn’t think he could handle that. So instead of contemplating further, he changes the subject.

“You’re being very calm about this.” Kent says, a little concerned at the change in attitude.

Bitty sighs. “It gets to a point sometimes where you just have to sit back and let things happen. Apparently I’m trapped in a time loop that only you can end, I have no way to reach out to my infinitely more knowledgeable mother for support, and you let me know too late to really look into it before the loop ends. At this point there’s really nothing I can do, and any emotional processing I go through will be wiped clean by the end of this loop. Compartmentalization is really more constructive at the moment. Though…” he trails off, pawing through the air like he had when he procured the dough.

Kent just watches, fascinatedly trying to see the moment when an item will appear in his hands. 

Bitty’s hands dip and shimmer through the air, and a moment later he’s triumphantly hoisting up a bottle of wine. 

“The good thing about time loops,” he notes sagely, “unlimited wine.”

Kent snorts, watching in amusement as Bitty downs a swig straight from the bottle.

“I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect you to be a straight from the bottle kind of guy.” Kent notes.

Bitty wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugs.

“Yeah, well, usually I’m not, but I can’t really bring myself to care at the moment.”

He offers the bottle to Kent, who spends all of three seconds looking at it before accepting for his own hearty swig.

“That’s the spirit.” Bitty laughs.

Kent snorts into the bottle, and Bitty makes a face of disgust. 

He still drinks from it after.  
\------  
Despite falling asleep on Bitty’s couch after a few more hours of tipsy ribbing, Kent wakes up in his hotel room at 7:30am, as usual.

Only now he feels emptier than usual for some reason. 

Bitty had told him to get in contact first thing in the morning so they could get to the bottom of things last night, so he rolls out of bed and punches in the number he had forced himself to memorize. The phone rings for a few long moments, then goes to voicemail. BItty had warned him that he wasn’t in the habit of picking up calls from strange numbers. So he leaves a voicemail.

“Hey Bitty, it’s, uh, Kent. Kent Parson. I uh--” he flounders for a moment, unsure of what to say “--got caught up in weird magic bullshit and, you, well, uh, alternate you I guess? Said you would help.”

Kent resists the urge to facepalm at his own awkwardness.

“Fuck alright, just call me back soon please.”

He hangs up. He’s still on his bed, in his boxers. Maybe he should take a shower, or get some breakfast.

His phone rings. He scrambles to pick it up.

“Bitty?” he says.

“Is this a prank?” Comes the familiar southern accent on the other side of the line.

Kent huffs a laugh. “Fuck, I wish.”

“You’re a wizard?” Bitty asks, voice taking on a tone that seems involuntarily hushed.

“No.” Kent responds. “At least I don't--uh, didn’t think so? I don’t know.”

“Care to explain what’s happening?” Bitty asks, exasperation clear in his voice.

Kent takes a deep breath, trying to calm and center himself so he can make more sense.

“I got stuck in a time loop. I talked to you last night and you seemed to know what was going on, but you weren’t able to get ahold of your mom, so you told me to try you in the morning.”

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. Then “shit. Are you serious? How did you manage that?”

“I don’t know.” Kent says, with a huff of frustration. “I don’t remember a lot from the night before the loop, I got pretty drunk.”

“Ah,” Bitty says. His tone seems to imply that he understands on some level. Kent almost wants to ask, but he reminds himself that this Bitty is not the same one from the night before. He doesn’t know Kent, and Kent shouldn’t ask him for personal stories right now. 

“I don’t really know what to do.” Bitty admits. “There’s a small wiccan library nearby, but I don’t know if it has any texts that delve into this subject. I can check, but I don’t know how far the bounds of your spell reach, or what would happen if I tried to leave them.”

Kent thinks on it for a moment. “I haven’t noticed anyone mentioning really strange stuff in the other loops. But, now that I think about it, some of the guys definitely noticed that there’s no cell service past a certain point.”

“The effects must be subtle then.” Bitty theorizes. “But the important thing isn’t the effect, it’s ending the loop. Usually magic has stipulations, if you could remember what you were doing when the spell was cast we might be able to fix this.”

“Drinking.” Kent answers, bluntly, but not without humor.

Bitty scoffs. “You said as much.”

Kent sighs. “I get gaps in my memory sometimes when I drink. They come back randomly sometimes, others they don’t, but I have a hard time forcing it back into my head.”

Bitty makes a vague noise of acknowledgement. “I guess that makes sense.”

There's another one of those awkward pauses that they’ve been having so often, and Kent is the one to break it this time.

“So, will you help me?”

Bitty huffs out a sigh. “I don’t know Kent, i’m not sure I even believe you, and I can’t just drop everything to help you.”

Kent sighs. Last night Bitty had warned him that he might be skeptical, had told him what to do if he didn’t believe him, but Kent still feels a little guilty pulling out big stops that had been handed to him when Bitty was drunk.

“When you were thirteen you developed a huge crush on Adam Rippon, you had a poster of him that you kissed every night before going to bed. You almost had a conniption when he came out.”

There’s a long silence from the other end of the phone.

“Why….” Bitty begins. “Why would I tell you that?”

Kent shrugs, even though Bitty can’t see it. “You were drunk.”

“I was drunk?” Bitty exclaims.

“You pulled wine out of your pocket thingy and started downing it.”

“Lord.” Bitty exclaims, clearly embarrassed. 

“It’s cool, you offered me some.” Kent shrugs again. “We bonded over existential time loop dread. It was fun.”

“Alright.” He says. “Alright, alright, I have no clue how to deal with this, I still haven’t even told Jack about the whole magic--”

“Oh.” Kent says, and it’s practically punched out of him because somehow he had forgotten that he’s talking to his ex’s current boyfriend.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, like Bitty is just remembering who he’s talking to as well. 

“And there’s that too.” Bitty adds, needing no explanation on what “that” is. He sighs, deep and tired. “I’ll just tell him I forgot an essay was due. It’ll be easier that way.”

He doesn’t sound happy about the prospect of lying to Jack and Kent almost feels guilty for being relieved that he’s willing to.

“I’m gonna go to that library I was telling you about, hopefully it’s within the bounds of your spell. It isn’t too far, so it should be. In the meantime, please try to remember anything relevant from the night before.”

Bitty hangs up not long later, and Kent just sits on his bed, the silence buzzing in his ears. He’s amazed at Bitty’s willingness to help someone who had made a… subpar impression on him in their one meeting. The time loop affects them all, but still. 

He shakes his head and begins to go about his daily routine. Swoops calls him sleeping beauty and lobs a mini sausage at his head, Juice can’t call his wife, the day continues on like normal. Only now, he has Bitty’s number saved in his phone, and he gets periodic texts updating him on the status of his research. He found a few books that might be relevant, but he needs to read through them. 

**Bitty:** they’re big books

 **Bitty:** I don’t think I’ll have time to read the whole thing, I’ll try to text you any relevant info

Kent feels guilty at his inability to help, but magic isn’t really something he knows anything about. He starts checking his phone every ten minutes, earning him some chirping from Swoops along the lines of “who’s the secret bae?” he brushes it off for the most part. Bitty doesn’t text him until an hour from the game.

 **Bitty:** Nothing, this book isn’t helpful

So Kent texts Bitty back a thanks, does his warmups, gets his ass kicked yet again by the Falconers, and goes to bed knowing he’s no closer to his goal than he had been before.

His only comfort is that when Bitty came onto the ice for the celly he had been too distracted to kiss Jack. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel that much better though.  
\------  
The next morning he streamlines his explanation.

“Hi, it’s Kent Parson, I’m trapped in a time loop. When you were thirteen you had a poster of Adam Rippon that you kissed every night before going to bed. Call me back so you can help me please.”

He told Bitty what book he had already looked through before he went to the library, and Bitty promised to send him updates through the day.

They aren’t that substantial though. After five “nothing new, still looking” texts, Kent snaps and sends him a cat meme. 

**Kent:** for your troubles

 **Bitty:** are cats a form of currency now?

 **Kent:** haven’t they always been?

Bitty fires back with a gif of a dog chasing its own tail. Kent snorts out a little laugh through his nose and texts back.

 **Kent:** me rn

 **Bitty:** Oh lord, I didn’t even think of the implications vis a vis your current situation

 **Bitty:** I just thought it was cute

Kent can’t help but think that Bitty is cute too. Then he ferociously reminds himself that Bitty is currently dating the love of his life and he should hate him. Even if he’s cute. And nice. And apparently super smart. And magic.

Fuck.  
\------  
The next loop, Kent doesn’t tell Bitty anything. He goes through the day the same way he had been, loses the game to the Falconers, and forces himself to watch Bitty and Jack kiss.

He feels the same pang in his heart as he had all those times before, but there’s another layer under it all, a hint of possibility. Something he ruthlessly crushes, turning around to go back to his hotel room. 

Swoops doesn’t try to stop him.  
\-----  
It’s high time for another alcohol binge, he reckons. A distant part of his mind recognizes that he’s probably going on them far too frequently, but it’s hard to convince himself to stop when he doesn’t get hangovers and his liver is rejuvenated every morning. There are no consequences to his actions. 

He knocks two back in short order, staring at the ceiling and letting his thoughts rampage.

He feels pathetic, not even three drinks in yet and already on the verge of tears over Jack for what must be the thousandth time. He--he remembers feeling like this. The first time, he had felt like this. His heart pounds, the fringes of a memory on his mind, he grasps for it, it feels important.

He’d felt like this the first loop, he’d cried over Jack, the ceiling was spinning, and he wished--he’d thought he'd do anything to fix things. He wished for a chance to fix things.

He sits bolt upright in bed. Bitty had said that magic has stipulations. Maybe his stipulation was he needed to fix things. But how? And what things? 

He tenses. It had been Jack he was thinking about. He had wanted to fix things with Jack. But it’s too late to really fix things. He can’t go back to the draft, that’s way too far. Maybe he’s supposed to reconcile with Jack. Maybe that will fix things.

He lays back in bed, uneasy in the realization that he’s going to have to try with Jack.

He falls asleep, contemplating just remaining trapped in the loop forever.  
\-----  
He groans as he gets out of bed the next morning. He feels fine physically, but he can’t help but dread the conversation to come with Jack. He doesn’t even have his number anymore.

But he does have his boyfriend's number.

He groans again, dialing the digits that are now ingrained in his mind and leaving a voicemail explaining the loop.

Bitty calls back. 

“I think I have to apologize to Jack.”

There’s a long pause.

“Yes.” Bitty says. “You do.”

He sounds a bit confused, but firm.

Kent huffs. “You don’t even know why.”

“It doesn’t matter why you think you need to apologize to him, it just needs to be done.”

Kent bites the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t think he wants my apology.”

“If it’s sincere, he’ll accept it.” Bitty concludes. 

“Okay.” Kent says. “Can you put him on the phone?”

“Kent Parson!” Bitty exclaims indignantly, and Kent is always amazed at how familiar he gets in such a short amount of time. “You need to apologize in person.”

Kent cringes. “Why?” 

“Because this is important, and you’re being sincere.”

“How am I supposed to do this in person though, we aren’t even on speaking terms.” Kent huffs.

“I’ll talk to him.” Bitty says.

“Why are you being so helpful?” Kent blurts, unable to contain the question. “I’m his ex, you shouldn’t want me to talk to him at all.”

“Kent.” Bitty says. “I trust him, and I think it’s more important that you to reconcile--considering how much you obviously effect each other--than for me to try to prevent you from interacting.”

Not for the first time, Kent is struck dumb by Bitty’s kindness. “Okay,” he says eventually, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bitty says, and then hangs up.  
\-----  
Bitty tells him Jack is willing to meet at a cafe, and mentions the one that he had seen them at all those loops ago.

When Kent shows up, his stomach is fluttering with nerves, and his eyes scan the shop for Jack. He’s not there yet, so Kent orders them both coffee. He hopes Jack’s order is still the same as it was in high school.

Jack shows up a minute or two after he gets their orders, and Kent waves him over, gesturing to the seat across from him. Jack takes a tentative seat, peering at the coffee.

“Vanilla dark roast with two creams and a stevia.” Kent says.

Jack blinks up at him in surprise, and Kent can’t tell if it’s because he remembered or because he broke the silence.

“Thanks.” He says, taking a sip. 

“I’m sorry.” Kent blurts, while Jack is taking a sip. “For the things I said at the party. It was unfair to you. I just--” he cuts himself off before he can start explaining himself. He doesn’t want to undermine his apology, but it’s hard, not conveying why he did what he did, not taking the pressure off himself at least a little.

Jack finishes his sip of coffee. “I’m not gonna lie,” he says, “what you said hurt. But now that I’m with the Falconers..” He shrugs, seemingly to indicate that he’s moved on.

It hurts, it feels like he’s been standing still all these years while Jack has been moving forward. There’s a long silence as Jack sips his coffee and Kent spirals a little, unsure what to say, but not wanting to leave.

Jack sets his coffee down. “I’m sorry too, I don’t think I handled everything that came before very well, you just remind me of…” he trails off.

“Worse times?” Kent asks ruefully. Jack reminds him of the good, and he reminds him of the bad.

“Yeah.” Jack says. “And that’s not fair to you, none of it was your fault.”

Kent shrugs. “It’s ok, you were going through a lot I just…” now it’s his turn to trail off.

“Yeah.” Jack says. “I missed you too.”

Kent scoffs at that, and Jack interjects.

“No, I did, I was just jealous, and I let it cloud my judgement." He says. Then: "I want… I want to try being friends again.”

It’s not ideal, knowing that they can never go back to the way they were before, but they’re still finishing each other’s sentences and they haven’t been friends for almost a decade now. That’s not just something you give up lightly.

“Yeah.” Kent says. “Me too.”  
\------  
The Falconers win the cup again this loop, and it doesn’t even hurt. He shakes hands amicably with Jack and almost gets barreled into by Bitty, who smiles at him before turning his attention to Jack. Kent steps back.

He fixed things, he thinks, watching the two make history as confetti streams around them. Everything is as it should be, as it was, only now it doesn’t hurt as much.

He wonders when he got so mature that he could watch someone he loves get together with someone else and genuinely wish the best for them. He wonders how he couldn’t wish the best for them, when it’s with someone like Bitty.

He goes to post game media afterward, admits that he’s sorry they lost, but he’s glad he got to see history being made with the first out NHL player. He smiles sadly for the cameras, and goes back to his room, setting his alarm for ten am so he can get ready for the plane ride back. Then he texts both Jack and Bitty a congratulations on making history and politely declines invitations to party with them.

He feels a strange mixture of hollow and happy. Things are the best they can be, but he still wishes they were different. It’s selfish, but he thinks he might be pining after both Bitty and Jack now. That might make things awkward in the future, he thinks, but for now, he’s happy for them. 

Besides, he lives all the way across the country, and it’s not like they’re close enough to regularly visit. It shouldn’t create that many problems.

He watches a few more episodes of My Strange Addiction before falling into a dreamless sleep.  
\---------

Kent wakes up the next morning to the sound of his alarm going off. He silences it blindly, lying in bed and reflecting on the day before. He fixed things, and now its over. He’s out of this godforsaken loop. 

A grin spreads across his face, and he punches the air. He’s out of this loop, and he’s on speaking terms with Jack now, and he knows Bitty, a new friend who’s kind and funny and cooler than he’ll ever be. He’ll be fine.

He checks his phone, intending to text them and see if they’re up after the post cup bash. But his eye catches on the top of the screen before he can. 

It reads 7:31am, and his stomach drops with a sickening realization. 

“No.” He whispers. Then louder. “No! I fixed it! No!” he feels tears beginning to prickle the corners of his eyes, and he turns to scream into his pillow for a long, drawn out moment.

He just wants this all to be over, he’s so goddamn tired. He doesn’t know what to do. So he just lays in bed for several long minutes, staring at the ceiling and wishing he had some sort of guidance. Some roadmap to tell him how to succeed. 

He sighs deeply and forces himself to regain composure. He may not have a roadmap, but he has someone he can turn to for help. Even if that someone never remembers him the next morning.

Turning to sit up on the edge of the bed, he dials the familiar number, lets it go to voicemail, and explains the loop.

Bitty calls him back, reliable in his curiosity.

“Hi Bits.” Kent says, plasticine casualness in his voice.

“Kent.” Bitty responds, painfully unfamiliar. “Explain.”

So he explains the situation, his wish, the fact that he had patched things up with Jack. Mortifyingly, his voice breaks when he gets to the reconciliation part, and even more embarrassingly, Bitty makes a noise of sympathy in the back of his throat. 

“I--” Kent starts up again. But he can’t finish through the frog in his throat. 

“Look,” Bitty says, “I pretty much have no way not to believe you after the Adam Rippon thing, I’ve never told anyone that. We can brainstorm ways to get out of the loop. I’ll give you pie.”

“It’s game day.” Kent responds on instinct, sensibilities worn into him by his nutritionist coming to surface.

“Well apparently you have many chances for do-overs.” Bitty responds. “You’re having pie.”

His voice brooks no argument, and Kent agrees, giving Bitty the hotel information.

Bitty shows up about forty minutes later, and pulls a pie out of his pocket dimension before immediately heading into the kitchenette to search for utensils. 

Upon discovery of the forks, he thrusts the pie under Kent’s nose.

“What a healthy breakfast.” He snarks.

“Just eat the damn pie.” Bitty responds, and Kent has to remind himself that he’s still just some random shithead to this Bitty. He’s struck by a wave of sadness over the knowledge that Bitty will never have all the memories that he does, won’t retain any of their interactions.

Kent bites into the pie rather than dealing with that. Then freezes. A sound of pleasant surprise is punched out of him at the taste. It’s apple, with a delicious crumble on top. The crust is warm and flaky, and it all tastes like a buttery cinnamony slice of heaven.

“Oh my god.” He practically moans. “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.” Bitty says, sounding smug.

“You made this?” Kent can’t help but exclaim. He’d seen Bitty’s dough, but he’d never imagined that something like this could come out of it. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” Bitty says, and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks now. “Anyways, the time loop situation?”

Kent takes another bite of the pie before responding. “I don’t know. The only parameters I really have are that I need to fix something. But I have no clue what that is if not my relationship with Jack.”

Bitty hums in commiseration. 

“Baking usually helps me work through my problems.” He says.

Kent eyes the kitchenette dubiously.

“Kent, I am magic. Ovens are optional.”

“Oh.” Kent responds. “Right.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Bitty raises an eyebrow and Kent speaks again.

“Does this mean we’re baking?” He asks.

“Yes.” BItty concludes. “We’re baking.”

He pulls some bowls and various other materials out of his pocket dimension, and begins to spread them out on the counter. 

“What are we making?” Kent asks. 

“Pie, obviously.” Bitty responds.

Kent snorts a laugh, but can’t deny that that sounds like a fantastic idea after trying the last pie he made. “Okay.” He says. “What kind?”

“Up to you, raspberry or pumpkin?” Bitty asks.

“Ooh,” Kent says. “Pumpkin’s a classic, I think we gotta go with that.”

“Respectable choice.” Bitty approves. 

Kent texts Swoops that he won’t be making it to any of the earlier things for hangover reasons, and Swoops is exasperated but understanding.

Then he and Bitty just bake a pie. They even make the crust from scratch. There’s a thirty minute break in which they watch an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, because apparently they’re both caught up, and because Bitty refuses to watch My Strange Addiction with him.

Bitty tosses his legs into Kent’s lap with the air of someone who’s so used to casual cuddles he doesn’t even think about it anymore, and Kent tries not to scream because he isn’t used to cuddles, but he wants to be. Especially if they’re cuddles from Bitty.

They heckle the episode together, Kent cracking a joke about the dramatic soundtrack and Bitty pointing out the fact that their hospital somehow makes every ground breaking achievement in the field, but it’s clear they both really like the show. 

When they get back into baking, they somehow end up in an argument about who’s better, Britney Spears or Beyonce, which gets so heated that they have to abandon the baking for a minute just to pull up visual aids. They end it by agreeing to disagree, and somehow it’s amicable despite the fact that they just got into a fight that lasted more than an hour. 

The pie is compiled fifteen minutes later, and they both gaze in awe at their creation. 

“Alright.” Bitty says. “Time to cook it.”

Kent isn’t sure what he does, as goes most of his spellwork, but he watches Bitty murmuring soft words and making firm gestures in the air over the pie, until Kent can see the crust beginning to turn golden brown and flaky.

“Wow.” He breathes, watching the transformation occur in fast order, the pie cooking in seconds.

Bitty drops his hands, then does a little flourishing bow.

Kent claps, and it’s only slightly patronizing. 

“Alright.” Bitty says. “I made it room temperature, all we need now is whip cream and some utensils.”

Bitty reaches into his pocket dimension, pulling out a can of whip cream and offering it to Kent. He accepts it and tilts the whip cream back, spraying it into his mouth, and Bitty’s button nose wrinkles in distaste. He grins, and Bitty snatches the can out of his hand.

“You’re disgusting.” Bitty says.

Kent just grins at him as he sprays the whip cream on his slice. Then his mouth drops open as Bitty sprays some whip cream in his mouth as well.

“Hypocrite!” He crows, reaching for the can. Bitty laughs and fumbles with it as he tries to escape Kent’s reach, getting whip cream on his nose.

Kent is grabbing his wrist with one hand and reaching for the whip cream with the other and Bitty is sticking is tongue out at him and smiling, his nose wrinkled up with the genuineness of it, and Kent kind of just wants to wipe the whip cream off and kiss him. His hand releases Bitty’s wrist and comes up to wipe off the whip cream, and Bitty freezes as Kent brushes it away. 

Kent presents his dirtied thumb for Bitty’s inspection, and he relaxes incrementally at the sight. His mouth is pink and plump and not smiling anymore. Kent impulsively brings the thumb to his mouth, sucking the whip cream off. He’s trying to get Bitty to smile and call him gross, but instead his mouth parts into an o, and Kent has slept around, okay, he knows what that o means.

He retracts his thumb from his mouth, and Bitty licks his lips, Kent’s eyes flick up to meet Bitty’s. But Bitty’s gaze has fallen to his mouth, and Kent knows what that means too. For an instant, he doesn’t think. An instant is all it takes for him to lean in and seal his lips over Bitty’s. An instant is all it takes for Bitty to part his lips in surprise into the kiss. Then, for a blissful moment longer, Bitty moves his lips, kissing him back. 

Then there’s hands on his chest, pushing him back. Bitty’s face is shocked, nervous, and it all comes crashing down on Kent.

“Shit.” He says, at the same time as Bitty says “Kent I--”

They both stop, and for a moment, silence reigns.

“I have to go.” Bitty says, and just like that he’s gone.

The door closes behind him with an air of finality, and Kent is left alone.

“Shit.” He says again.  
\-----  
The game does not go well. He's distracted, misses a perfectly good shot. The Falconers crush them.

When Bitty comes up to congratulate Jack, he seems more nervous than excited. His eyes flit to Kent's and then dart away. It seems like Jack asks him a question, but he just shakes his head and smiles. It doesn't look sincere.

Kent put that fake ass look there, he knows that much. It makes him so ashamed of himself he's almost nauseous. The only good news is in the morning all of this will be wiped away.

\-----  
The next morning, he’s awoken by a peculiar sound. He grabs his phone, hoping to disable the alarm in his groggy state, but it’s not his alarm, and it’s not 7:30am. It’s 6:45 and someone is pounding on his door. For one heart stopping moment he thinks he’s free, that he’s finally been saved from this loop, and he doesn’t even care that he fucked up so badly in the last one because it’s _over_. 

Then he realizes that it’s still Saturday, and his heart sinks. He’s still trapped in the same day he’s been in. But something is different this time, and if he’s not out and about to change things, then who is?

Whoever is at the door is still making a racket so he calls out “coming!” before flinging himself out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, whoever is at the door doesn’t seem like they’d have the patience for that, and admittedly he doesn’t either at the moment.

He flings the door open, and on the other side he finds--

“Bitty?” He says, the word punched out of him by incredulity.

“What the fuck.” Bitty says, in his thick Georgia accent. 

“What?” Kent says, caught off guard by the profanity.

“That’s my damn question!” Bitty exclaims. “I woke up this morning and I remembered everything!”

“How?” Kent asks.

“That was my next question!” Bitty exclaims. “And my answer was a whopping ‘I don’t know!’”

“Oh.” Kent says. Then: " _oh no._ "  
\-----  
BITTY  
\-----  
When he woke up that morning, it was in Jack’s arms, warm and safe, and with a sense of vague guilt. The events of the day before slowly came back to him, the call from Kent, comforting him, the kiss. 

He stiffens. The kiss he hadn’t told Jack about because he wasn’t even supposed to remember it. 

Jack mumbles in his sleep and rolls over, and Bitty’s mind is racing. Had Kent lied about the time loop? Why would he do that? To solicit pity from him, to try to get in his pants? And to think he had wanted the kiss, if only for a moment.

He sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. This is ridiculous, he’d only really spent a couple hours with Kent, and his prior impression of him hadn’t been the greatest. But he had been vulnerable, in a way that made Bitty feel for him, and he’d told him he’d made up with Jack, and he’d just generally been charming.

Bitty makes a noise of mild disgust in the back of his throat and reaches for his phone. It’s 6:15am. Pretty standard time for him to wake up, he’s a bit of an early bird--

He sits bolt upright, almost dropping his phone on his face. The date, the date on the phone is the same as it had been yesterday. Kent hadn’t been lying. He flicks a panicked look at Jack, who doesn’t seem to have been disturbed from his rest by Bitty’s flailing.

How is Bitty going to explain the loop to Jack? Or the kiss? Or anything? And how is he going to deal with the loop now that apparently he’s a part of it? What the fuck is he going to do?

He should call Kent. He opens his recent calls and starts looking through his voicemail before remembering that none of that would stick. And he doesn’t remember what Kent’s number was. Shit. He needs to talk to him though, he’s the only person who knows about all of this.

He looks at Jack, still sleeping peacefully beside him. Well, maybe not the only one. Maybe Jack would be aware of the loop too. If he wakes him up, would he be surprised that it’s still game day? Would he be able to join them? To help them beat the loop? He hasn’t even told Jack about magic yet, hasn’t known how to bring it up. But it’s such a big part of his life and he’s been wanting to for so long now. Maybe this is the way to tell him.

He gently shakes Jack awake. Jack smiles up at him the moment his eyes open, and Bitty’s heart melts.

“Hey there Bittle.” He says, voice rough and sleepy.

Bitty can’t help but lean down and steal a kiss from him. “Good morning baby.” He says, then to test the waters: “Happy game day.” 

Jack just smiles and says “last one, we’re gonna get them.”

Bitty’s heart sinks, but he still smiles back queasily. “Yeah, honey, you are.”

He doesn’t have time to make Jack breakfast in bed, but he has a spell that can slap together some wonderful pancakes in seconds, provided he has the right ingredients. Which of course he does. 

“Look honey, I’ve got some pancakes goin' in the kitchen, but I need to head out and take care of somethin’ real quick. You come out and eat them whenever.”

Jack smiles at him. “You didn’t have to Bits, it’s not even 6:30 yet, how do you do it?”

“I’ll reveal my secrets one day.” Bitty says with a wink, and it’s the truth, one day he will.  
\-----  
“Kent, we need to figure out what to do.” Bitty says.

“I know.” Kent responds.

Bitty sighs like he’s been punched in the gut. “Kent. Ideas?”

“I’m sorry.” Kent replies. “I’ve tried them all at this point. I’m fresh out. The only time anything changed I wasn’t even trying to change anything.” He gestures pointedly towards Bitty.

Bitty tries to get his train of though back on a track that doesn’t involve acts of violence towards Kent.

“Okay, so you said that you wished you could fix things.” Bitty recounts. “That’s so vague.”

“Yeah.” Kent says. “And the last time I thought I had fixed things, nothing changed. I just ended up making more things that need to be fixed right after.”

Bitty snaps his fingers, realization hitting him.

“Maybe that’s it, maybe you only fixed part of things. You need to fix everything.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Kent asks, exasperated.

“I don’t know.” Bitty replies. “All you can do is try.”

Kent holds his gaze for a long, intense moment.

“I’m sorry.” He says, finally. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

For a moment, the words hurt. Until Bitty remembers why Kent shouldn’t have done it. Jack.

“We need to tell Jack.” Bitty says.

“What.” Kent replies, panic creeping into his voice. “Why?”

“I didn’t tell him last night because I didn’t think I’d remember it in the morning, so I figured there wasn’t a point in ruining our day. But I remember it now. Maybe I need to fix something too. Maybe that’s why I got pulled into the loop.”

“By that logic there’d be a lot more people in the loop than just the two of us.” Kent says. “And besides, it’s not your fault, i’m the one that did it.”

“And i’m the one that--” Bitty starts, cutting himself off before he can say “wanted you to.” Because, no, Kent doesn’t need to know that, this doesn’t need to be more complicated than it already is.

“What?” Kent asks. 

“Nothing.” Bitty replies. “The point is that we both need to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t even know about magic though, does he?” Kent asks.

“No,” Bitty admits,“he doesn’t.”

“So maybe we should ease him into it?” Kent asks.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” He replies, honestly curious.

“Reconciliation first, then magic, then kiss?” Kent proposes.

Bitty opens his mouth, then closes it. It honestly doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

“Okay,” Bitty says, “but the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms right now. How are you going to get to him?”

Kent shrugs. “Last time you said you would talk to him, and he seemed kind of willing to chat after that.”

“Oh.” Bitty says.

“Yeah.” Kent says. “So good luck with that I guess.” 

Bitty shoots him a dirty look and exits the hotel room without saying anything else.  
\-----  
When Bitty gets home, the pancakes he left for Jack are eaten, and the shower is running. His heart is pounding, too much adrenaline flowing through his veins. It’s been months since he’s been this unsure about speaking to Jack about something. He loves him, would trust him with anything, but he cares about him too much to not be nervous about this.

The water cuts off and he takes a steadying breath, steeling himself. Jack exits the bathroom in a billow of steam, towel around his waist, chest bare, rubbing his hair with another towel. Bitty doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing that.

“Hi.” Bitty says, breathless. Jack smiles like a ray of light, and a drop of water rolls down his chest.

“Hey.” He says, approaching for a kiss. 

Bitty leans into it, reaching up to cradle his chin in his hand, up on his tip toes, because Jack is so damn tall, and he hadn’t had to stretch this much to kiss Kent--

He breaks the kiss, upset at himself for thinking about Kent at the moment.

“What is it?” Jack asks.

“Why did you and Kent break up?” He asks, and this really wasn’t what he meant to open with at all, but it’s out in the open now and there’s no taking it back.

Jack blinks at the outburst. Part of Bitty wants to retract the question, but now that it’s out there he doesn’t think he can. He sees Jack’s face transform as he actually thinks about the question, morphing from surprise to consideration to pain. Bitty knows its unfair of him to ask, but part of him thinks that Jack might not even remember tomorrow, so why worry about it anyways?

Jack sits down on one of the kitchen barstools, towel forgotten around his neck.

“After the draft, I was so jealous of him.” Jack says. “I was guilty, because I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I just stopped feeling good around him as much. Just looking at him, knowing he made the draft and I didn’t--”

He cuts off on a choked knot of emotion.

“I was hurting him too. He never said it, but I could tell the colder I got to him the more it hurt. It wasn’t fair to either of us to continue on, so I broke it off with him.”

“Did you love him?” Bitty asks, and he’s not sure where it came from, he wasn’t even consciously considering the question.

“Yes.” Jack says. “He was my best friend.”

“Do you still love him?” Bitty asks.

“No!” Jack says, panicked. “I love you.” He reaches out, hand on Bitty’s chin, leans in to kiss him. But Bitty can’t help but think how the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

“Where did this come from?” Jack asks. “Why are you asking me about all this now?”

“I talked to Kent.” Bitty says. “He wants to apologize, for what happened at the party.”

Jack winces. “Part of me thinks I deserved that.”

“No.” Bitty responds, adamant. “You may not have done the best in the past, but that doesn’t make what Kent said right.” Or what Bitty hasn’t said. But he’ll address that later, he needs to adhere to the order. 

“I don’t think I was ready to talk to him at the party.” Jack says. “It all still hurt, obviously I never gave up on the NHL.”

Bitty sighs. “Well, don’t tell that to me, tell it to him.”

Jack nods. “You’re right. I should talk to him.”  
\-----  
Jack and Kent agree to meet up at the nice little cafe he and Bitty had found in Providence not long ago, with the comfy couches and wifi. Bitty proclaims that he isn’t involved enough to tag along, but assures Jack that he is more than fine with him reconciling with his ex, guiltily accepting the warm smile and peck on the lips he receives before Jack exits.

He sits down on the couch with a sigh at Jack’s exit, covering his eyes with his forearm. It isn’t in his nature to just let things be, but he knows it’s not his place to interfere in this particular conversation.

He wonders what would happen if the two reconciled. If the loop ended and everyone remembered everything and Kent became an everyday part of their life. If he saw him around on a somewhat regular basis, knowing the way his lips feel on his. 

He thinks about Kent and Jack as teenagers, the fact that they were best friends, the strength of their bond, the fact that Kent still isn’t over Jack, all these years later. Kent hadn’t said as much, but he could tell after that phone call, with Kent choking back tears after getting so close and still losing his reconciliation. Is he coming between something great? Was Kent? 

Bitty sighs. He’s always known he’s prone to multiple crushes at once, but he thought that once he was in love, in a relationship with someone he loved, that it would all go away. But it hasn’t, he loves Jack, and he has a big crush on Kent now.

Maybe it was the kiss, or maybe it’s the way that Kent has been surprisingly vulnerable and open to self improvement. He wouldn’t have expected much from him, given their first meeting, but he’s actually a good guy, just impulsive. He touches his fingers to his lips, thinking yet again about the product of Kent’s impulses. He wonders why Kent did it. Because he had thought that there wouldn’t be any consequences the next day, or because he had seen that Bitty wanted him to do it.

Bitty flushes. He knows he shouldn’t have wanted it, he has Jack, but Kent is a lot. A good a lot. And he tends to get caught up in romantic baking moments. Not that he’s had a lot of experiences with them, but he’s had enough to know it gets him pretty easily.

He shakes his head and resolves not to think about it all too much, turning on the TV to watch that My Strange Addiction show Kent was talking about.  
\-----  
JACK  
\-----  
Kent is already at the coffee shop when Jack gets there, and he apparently remembers his coffee order, because it’s just right, same as it’s been since high school.

Kent apologizes, and Jack apologizes, and when Jack says he wants to be friends again Kent… well, he winces.

It feels like a slap to the face. Jack knows that he was a shithead for years, but he thought that this was the whole reason that Kent wanted to apologize, so that they could try being friends again. If that isn’t what he wants anymore--

“I have something I should tell you.” Kent says, his voice serious. “Another thing I need to apologize for.”

“What?” Jack asks, honestly confused.

“I kissed Bitty.” Kent blurts, in an embarrassed, guilty rush. “I’m sorry.”

Jack blinks, almost feeling a loading sign forming above his head. Multiple things crash through his mind at once: first, an image of Kent and Bitty kissing, second, an image of them kissing in front of Jack, third, another image he skips over as quickly as possible, and finally, a burning question.

“When?” Jack asks, honestly confused as to when Kent even saw Bitty recently.

“Not too long ago.” Kent answers vaguely. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why?” Jack asks. “Were you trying to get back at me?”

“No!” Kent answers, immediate and indignant. “How immature do you think I am?”

Then it was because he wanted to. Because he was attracted to Bitty. Which, who wouldn’t be, but also, Kent, his ex, is attracted at least on some level to his current boyfriend? That's complicated.

“I just want you to know, and I want you to know that Bitty didn’t kiss back, it was all on me. I’m sorry.” Kent concludes. 

Jack takes another drink of his coffee, honestly having no clue how to answer. This Kent, apologetic, communicative, open, he’s new. He’s different. They both are, he supposes. He wonders why he isn’t jealous. He had been so incensed when Kent had gotten first pick on the draft, but he isn’t now.

Maybe it’s because he knows Bitty loves him, and it’s ridiculous to think he would leave him for Kent. Maybe it’s because Kent genuinely seems very distressed about it all. Or maybe, he thinks, the images flashing through his mind again--he cuts that train of thought off, raising from his chair.

“I need to… process.” he says, and Kent looks stricken, but Jack really does need to process, away from Kent. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Then he heads back to his apartment, so much more confused then he had begun.

Bitty is watching tv with a look of clear disgust on his face when Jack gets back.

“Hey,” Jack says, “what are you watching?”

“A woman who eats her cat's hair.” Bitty says, frowning. He pauses the show when he turns to see Jack. “How’d it go?”

Jack shrugs. “He said he kissed you.”

“Oh.” Bitty says, clearly surprised. Then his face turns sad, guilty maybe. “Yes, he did.”

“Did you--” Jack starts. Then stops himself because he was about to ask if Bitty liked it and that--that isn’t fair no matter how it’s interpreted. Jack feels like he’s going crazy a little, thinking about the two of them together and liking that idea so much.

Bitty looks at him expectantly, but when Jack doesn’t finish his question he frowns.

“I didn’t kiss him back. I left.”

“Okay.” Jack says, and Bitty looks confused at his tone. Jack is confused at his own tone.

Bitty clears his throat. “Are we… are we okay?” He asks. He seems nervous, and Jack steps forward to hug him.

“We’re fine.” He kisses him then, and for a long moment he forgets about everything. Then he steps away, and Bitty smiles up at him, and they just stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“So other than that, how’d it go?” Bitty asks.

“It went fine.” Jack says. “I want to try being his friend again, but I kind of ran away after he told me you guys kissed, so I don’t know how to talk to him again.”

“You have time.” Bitty shrugs. “You don’t need to do it right away.”

“Okay.” Jack says. He kind of does want to do it right away, but he doesn’t mention that.

“Anyways,” Bitty says, looking at his phone, “you should get going if you want to make it to morning skate.” 

“Right.” Jack says, then kisses Bitty before heading out.  
\-----  
He doesn’t talk to Kent for the rest of the day, busy and unsure of what to say in equal parts, but when they get on the ice together, they nod at each other amicably. It’s more than they’ve done in a long while, and Jack smiles to himself privately.

The feelings he had for Kent never went away, they just twisted and warped under the weight of his jealousy. But now they can fix things. They can be friends again.

But on the ice they’re rivals, and he’s looking to prove himself.

It’s a close game, but the Falconers win in the end. One point, that’s all it took to spell his victory. And Kent… he isn’t tossing his helmet, or avoiding eye contact, or making any indication that he’s bitter about the loss. He smiles softly at Jack, and tilts his head. 

Jack turns to look in the direction of the tilt and sees just in time to get an armload of Bitty.

“Congrats.” Bitty says, smiling up at him. “That was a great game.”

Jack smiles down, accepting the congratulations, then lets his gaze be drawn back up to Kent. He’s already gone though, and Jack can’t help it when his expression falls.

He knows Bitty noticed based off his own expression, but he just smiles again and is thankful when Bitty doesn’t comment.  
\-----  
The next morning, Jack wakes up to the sound of Bitty leaving the bed. He groans and reaches out to grab him.

“Hey baby.” He mumbles. “Where’r you goin?”

“To make you breakfast.” Bitty says. “Gotta get those game day carbs in.”

Jack snorts. “Game day was yesterday Bitty. We won.”

Bitty goes stock still, then glances down at his phone. Then back to Jack.

“Shit.”  
\-----  
When Bitty explains the time loop to Jack, he thinks it’s an uncharacteristic joke of him. When Bitty literally materializes a pie out of thin air, Jack rubs his eyes, blinks, and looks again. When Bitty lights the tips of his fingers on fire with his mind, Jack turns the palm of his hand over in search of some kind of device, finds nothing, sits back on his heels, and asks Bitty to explain the loop again. So he does.

“So we’re trapped in this day until Kent ‘makes things right?’” Jack asks. “What does that even mean?”

“I know, right?” Bitty exclaims, clearly way ahead of him in the frustration department. Jack can only imagine how Kent himself feels.

“So what do we do?” Jack asks. 

“I have no clue.” Bitty says. Then, “we should probably talk to Kent though.”

Jack feels a jolt at that before realizing that Bitty obviously means about the loop.

“Right.” He responds. “Good idea.”  
\------  
“So you can tell when a loop is happening now too?” Kent asks.

Jack nods in confirmation.

“Jesus.” Kent says. “Am I just supposed to pull people out one by one? I feel like I should be drinking right now, this feels like a drinking moment.”

“This isn’t a drinking moment.” Bitty says sternly. “And your drinking habits are starting to concern me.”

“I am currently stuck in a time loop, with no way to get out. I’d say that counts as extenuating circumstances Bitty.”

Bitty rolls his eyes, and Kent rolls his back harder. Jack can’t help but find it cute on both of their parts.

He notices the way their gazes hold afterward, the fond crinkle in the corner of Kent’s eyes, and he thinks about the kiss again. Not for the first time, he wishes he had seen it, but he does his best to suppress that wish.

But still, he can’t help but notice the way their gazes seem inexorably pulled to each other. To him. Bitty laughs at something Kent has said, and Jack realizes he’s been zoning out.

“I’m just saying, every time I try to exploit the ‘no consequences’ thing, I break the time loop.” Kent exclaims. “It’s like the concept exists just to be contradictory to me.”

“Maybe if you do something else, damn the consequences, you’ll break free.” Jack suggests. He’s looking Kent directly in the eyes, and a distant part of himself notes that his gaze is probably too intense.

There's a pause, as all three of them absorb Jack’s words. Kent holds his gaze, and Jack can’t read his expression until he breaks gaze, his eyes flickering uncertainly to Bitty.

Bitty is looking at Jack, and he seems caught off guard, but also intrigued. Jack had thought that Bitty was attracted to Kent, but this is practically confirmation. That look in Bitty’s eyes is unmistakable. Jack has seen it countless times before.

Bitty’s gaze flickers back to Kent, and Kent is looking at Bitty, and Jack has seen that look countless times before too.

“Do it.” He says. At this point there’s no room for misinterpretation. Bitty looks hungry, and Kent takes a stiff step forward.

“Can I?” He asks, hand on Bitty’s face. 

Bitty lurches forward and kisses him in response, startling a little sound out of Kent.

Jack thinks that this might not actually count as damning the consequences, seeing as they are all going to remember this tomorrow, regardless of the loop, but he can’t bring himself to care. Bitty presses forward, grabs the other side of Kent’s face, and Jack can see his tongue sliding between the seam of Kent’s lips.

Kent moans, and hell, Jack knew he would like that. Seeing Bitty in action makes him that much more appreciative of how enthusiastic he is.

Bitty leans back, breaking the kiss. “Wait, wait.” he says.

Kent groans. “I thought we were damning the consequences?”

“We should talk about this at least a little.” Bitty says. “What are we doing, what do we want to happen here?"

Now that he mentions it, Jack realizes he hadn’t really thought about that much. He’s diving into this situation so quickly, but it’s just what feels right. They’re stuck in a time loop, and he and Kent processed their emotions and Bitty is amazing and--

“I want to try this.” Jack says. “Try us.” It’s scary, and it’s new, and its a lot, but it’s the truth.

“Okay.” Bitty says. “For tonight or for a relationship?”

And Jack hadn’t even known that was an option until just now, but god, if that’s an option that’s what he wants.

He turns to Kent, and there’s so much they still haven’t resolved there, so much hurt he caused him by avoiding him for years. He warped his view of Kent to suit his jealousy, and they’ve both changed so much in such a short amount of time. Would he get bitter losing to Kent on the ice? Would he treat him like he had before again? Would Bitty get caught in the middle?

Would something amazing come from this? 

He thinks, maybe, if he tries to ground himself, it could. He’d never been as apathetic to Kent as he tried to pretend, and now all those feelings he had suppressed are coming crashing back. And Kent is the same, but better. He’s him, but more stable, and grounded, and communicative, and mature. Jack can only hope he matches that growth.

“I want to try.” he says. “I want to try a relationship.”

Bitty smiles, and Kent beams, and Bitty laughs and kisses him again, right through his grin. “Me too.” Bitty says.

“Yeah,” Kent says, “I really do too.”  
\-----  
This time, when Kent and Jack face off on the ice, Kent winks, and Jack grins. They play with the same passion as they always do, but the Falconers win by one point again. Kent skates up to him when the final buzzer sounds, startling a nearby ref into tension, but he just gives Jack a good firm pat on the back, then tilts his head to the left. Bitty barrels into Jack with a “congratulations!”

He turns to Kent, grinning. “I’m starting to think you’re not even trying.” He teases.

Kent sighs. “And I’m starting to think this particular L is fated. You know we’ve only won once in about forty five loops.”

“Geeze.” Bitty says. “Definitely fated then.”

“Anyways,” Kent says, pointing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna do post game interviews.”

“Hey!” Bitty says, before he can turn completely. “You better come to the after party with us, Parson.”

“Yeah.” Kent says, smiling almost shyly at Bitty. “I will.” Then he turns his smile on Jack. Jack wants to kiss him so badly in that moment that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Then he remembers the time loop and thinks, fuck it, he can. It’s not like anyone but them will remember tomorrow.

So he does. 

Kent’s eyes widen with realization as Jack leans it, but he makes no move to escape, just kisses him back, and leans away when it’s over.

“Hi.” Bitty says from Jack’s side, smiling and obviously having caught on to his train of thought. He leans in for a kiss as well, and Jack feels complete in that moment, whole and unhindered.

Kent makes a low whistling sound. “People are going wild over this.” He remarks casually.

Jack shrugs. “It’s not like anyone will remember tomorrow.”

Kent just smirks and gives him a “see you at the after party” and a wink.   
——-  
Post game media is a fucking madhouse, but Jack has the self assured aura of someone who knows there won’t be any repercussions the next day, so it honestly isn’t that bad anxiety wise. 

It’s all worth it to see Bitty and Kent at the end, chatting amongst an afterparty. Kent’s post game must have been shorter since the Aces lost.

“Hey!” Kent says, yelling to be heard above the music and motioning him over. “Post game was interesting thanks to you.” He laughs, seeming unbothered by this.

Jack shrugs. “What can I say, I make things interesting.”

Kent smiles at him. “Understatement of the century.”

Bitty interjects. “Kent and I were talking, and we figured there’s going to be plenty of after parties to go to, so we were talking about cutting out and just hanging at the apartment instead.”

From the glint in Bitty’s eye, he’s pretty sure he knows what he means by that. 

“Yeah.” He responds, a little too quickly to be as casual as he was shooting for. “Sounds like a plan.”  
\-----  
When he wakes up the next morning, it’s with Bitty under his arm, head resting on his chest, and Kent curled up facing away from him, his spine bare against Jack’s side.

He’s overly warm, and his mouth is dry, and there’s a spot on his thigh that’s suspiciously itchy, but he’s full to bursting with happiness. 

Bitty begins to stir into wakefulness at his side, and when he does, he smiles up at Jack, brighter than the sun. 

“Good morning hon.” He says. His eyes slide to Jack’s other side, then widen in surprise. He bursts out into raucous laughter.

“What?” Jack asks. “What is it?”

Kent wakes up beside him at the noise, and his eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be there. He sees Bitty laughing, and his face contorts until he’s laughing as well.

“What?” Jack asks again, feeling a little left out.

“Honey,” Bitty says, through fits of giggles, “check your phone.”

Jack rolls over, reaching over Kent’s laughter shaking form to grab his phone. 

It’s 9:30am, he has 35 missed text messages, three missed calls, and more social media notifications than he can count, and it’s Sunday.

It’s Sunday. 

Jack can’t help but laugh right along with them 


End file.
